To The Wolves
by TheLostWoods
Summary: When Matthew Williams is invited to visit his father's Canadian lodge for the first time in years, Matthew is thrilled. However, strange occurrences have caused the lodge's reputation to plummet, and it's up to Matthew to discover what is really going on. The last thing he expected to find was a strange man in the woods named Gilbert who holds a startling secret.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, Nancy Drew, or anything else, no matter how much I wish I did.**

_To the wolves_

_You left me to the wolves_

_Thought it was me and you against the world_

_But you left me to the wolves_

**_To The Wolves-Anberlin_**

* * *

17-year-old Matthew Williams approached the lodge as a feeling of warmth filled his chest with a sort of nostalgic joy. How long had it been since he had last visited this place? 11, 12 years now? He smiled softly, tugging on his maple leaf patterned scarf to tighten its hold around his chilled lips. Icicle Creek Lodge held such dear memories for him. His blue-violet eyes scanned the snowcapped landscape fondly before landing on what appeared to be some sort of bunkhouse. Glancing a bit farther to the right, the Canadian noticed a peculiar looking snow structure. _Must be some sort of fort_, he thought as he shuffled his way over towards it, being careful not to slip on the icy pavement.

Matthew's movements toward the fort were suddenly brought to a halt, however, due to the fact that a large snowball had flown through the air and hit him square in the face, almost knocking the Canadian's glasses off his face. He flung his arms out in order to regain his lost balance.

"You have dared to approach the great fortress of Peter the Great! What have you to say for yourself?" an accented voice (_British_?Matthew questioned) called out.

"E-eh?" Matthew muttered.

"What have you to say for yourself?" the voice repeated.

"I-I'm sorry?" Matthew replied with uncertainty. Honestly, he was beyond confused about what was going on at this point.

The voice huffed. "That is all you have to say? I will not accept it! State your business here or feel the wrath of my snowball army!"

Matthew heard a bit of shuffling coming from behind the massive snow structure before a small, blue-capped head popped up over the wall. The boy's blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he raised his arm into throwing position, a snowball already in his grasp and ready to be released. Not wanting a repeat of the previous incident, Matthew decided to try to explain himself.

"My name is Matthew," he began, "Matthew Williams. My dad owns this lodge, eh."

Peter's, slightly bushy, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and his throwing arm relaxed slightly. "But the owner of this lodge is named Mr. Jones…" He snapped his arm back up into proper throwing form. "You are lying to Peter the Great!"

Matthew took a few hesitant steps backwards in order to escape the range of fire and was about it cover his face in order to protect it from further abuse when he heard a deep, authoritative voice speak up from behind him.

"P'ter."

Peter quickly dropped the snowball from his hand and smiled nervously. "Hello, Papa," he said innocently.

Matthew turned around and took in the towering form behind him. He squealed quietly as the man's icy glare moved from Peter and focused in on him.

"Was he causin' ya any pr'blems?" the intimidating man inquired in a thickly accented voice that Matthew could hardly understand. His gaze flashed over to Peter for a moment and the boy hid himself behind a pillar of snow extending from his fort.

Matthew swallowed. "N-no, sir." The man's eyes narrowed slightly, and he hummed in response.

"I see." The man sighed, adjusting the rectangular shaped glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. He mumbled something in a language Matthew was a bit unfamiliar with. _Perhaps Swedish?_ He wondered. He was brought out of his own thoughts as the man spoke up again, this time in English. "M' name is Berwald. M' the h'ndyman here. Peter's m' son." He glanced over towards the snow fort again as Peter hid himself further. "Ya said ya were Matthew, right?" Matthew nodded, unable to form words under Berwald's intense stare. Berwald merely hummed again. "Been expectin' ya."

Berwald turned on his heel and headed back towards the lodge, stopping a few feet away to glance back in Matthew's direction. The Canadian took this as Berwald's way of telling him to follow, so he quickly scurried after the intimidating Swede. Once Matthew was in step behind him, Berwald hummed again (_Is that all this guy can do?_ Matthew wondered) and continued walking.

Berwald led Matthew to the front door of the lodge and opened the dark wood door so the both of them could step inside. Matthew unwrapped the scarf from his neck as Berwald tapped a bit of snow off the bottom of his boot. Matthew smiled as he took in the warmth of the familiar entryway. Sure, it had been years since he had been here, not since his parents' divorce, but everything was still as he remembered it.

The stacked logs that composed the walls were a greyish-brown color and along the entire room, at the very top of each wall, wrapped an intricate piece of artwork that depicted the Canadian landscape and various wildlife. Matthew hung his coat up on one of the many available wooden pegs near the door, and he noticed with fondness the marks on the door frame where he and his brother had marked their heights when they were young to see how much they had grown. He had really missed this place.

"Th's way." Berwald's gruff voice brought Matthew out of his reminiscing and the Canadian began to follow the man once again.

Berwald guided him to another door, which Matthew recalled led to the basement, and the two descended the creaky old stairs.

"U-um," Matthew mumbled nervously, afraid of angering the intimidating Swede, "M-Mr. Berwald, sir?"

Berwald stopped just short of a cluttered workbench and turned to face the Canadian. "Hm?"

Matthew squeaked softly. "I'm sure you have a good reason for bringing me down here to this dark basement, but I can't help but wonder…" he swallowed the lump in his throat, "where's my dad?"

Berwald shot the boy another harsh look before speaking. "Not h're."

"E-eh?" Matthew stuttered. "What do you mean he's not here? My brother and I are supposed to spend the next few weeks with him. Why would he be gone?"

Berwald grunted softly. "Been some… things happenin' h're. He had to some business t' take care of. Said for me to h've ya call him when ya got h're." Berwald turned back to face the workbench and grabbed a small piece of paper that had been resting near a blue and yellow mug halfway filled with, now cold, coffee. "And g've ya this too."

Matthew felt the paper being placed in his hand and he slowly unfolded it.

_Hello, boys!_

_I'm sorry that I couldn't be there to greet you when you arrive, but some things have come up._

_I've asked the handyman, Berwald, to look after you until I can get back there. (Don't let his looks fool you, he's a big softie.)_

_I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush, and I can't explain everything right now, so give me a call as soon as you can. My number is on a post-it note by the phone in the check-in area. Berwald can show you if you can't find it._

_Again, I'm sorry I can't be there to greet you both. _

_Call me ASAP!_

_Love, Dad_

Matthew sighed and folded the paper back up and shoved in into the back pocket of his jeans. It was so like his dad to do something like this after all this time. He frowned and looked up the man standing before him, patiently waiting for him to finish reading.

"I guess I should call him now, eh?" Matthew asked.

Berwald responded with his signature "Hm" and a nod and began to walk back up the stairs to the main floor. Matthew followed behind sheepishly, feeling a bit more at ease around the intimidating man. Berwald led him to the check-in desk, which was directly across from the main entryway and next to a flight of stairs that led to the bedrooms on the next floor. Matthew recalled passing the desk on the way to the basement door.

"Phone's h're." Berwald gestured to a white phone that sat on the other side of the desk next to a computer (which Matthew assumed contained guest information) before he turned and walked back down into the basement.

Matthew quickly noticed the bright yellow sticky note that was placed just above the phone's number pad. He glanced over the various numbers written on it. _Sherriff, Avalanche Patrol, some guy named Balducci… Ah! There's Dad's number!_

Matthew held the receiver up to his ear as he dialed his father's number. He answered after three rings.

"Alfred! Is that you, my boy?"

"No, Dad, it's Matthew. Alfred won't be here for another few days because he's finishing up some things at school." Matthew's older brother, Alfred, was currently a freshman student at some university in California and was studying a science of some sort (Matthew had learned to tune out just about everything Alfred rambled on about these days, so he wasn't completely clear about what his brother was doing), although he originally wanted to be an art student. His own lack of artistic ability was the reason for the change of major.

"Oh! Marcus! Of course!" Matthew sighed. He should have expected this as well. Matthew's father was a very intelligent man, as well as a successful businessman, but he couldn't remember Matthew's name to save his life.

"It's Matthew, eh," the Canadian softly corrected.

"Oops! Sorry about that, Morgan!"

Matthew gave up, sighing once more. "It's fine. Anyway, what's going on, Dad? Why aren't you here?"

Mr. Jones seemed to be talking to someone else on his end of the line and did not respond to Matthew's question.

"Dad?" Matthew called.

"Sorry, my boy!" Mr. Jones chuckled. "I had to discuss something with my lawyer for a moment. Lawsuits are no simple matter, you know!"

"E-eh? Lawsuit?!" Matthew gasped. "What's going on, Dad?"

Mr. Jones conversed with the person on his end again for a short moment before answering. "Well see… how do I put this? There have been some… strange accidents happening at the lodge recently. Just last week a man slipped on the steps out front and broke his leg, and an entire family went home sick with food poisoning! And the week before that a couple was locked in the sauna downstairs during a gas leak! You can image that none were very happy with the situation, hence the lawyer I mentioned earlier. As if things weren't bad enough, both the cook and the maid quit on me just a few days ago! I've got guests staying and no staff to take care of them! I'm at my wits end here, son."

Matthew couldn't believe what his father was telling him. "Do you have any idea what's behind these _accidents?"_

Matthew heard his father sigh. "There has been a strange white wolf hanging around in the forest surrounding the lodge and… this is ridiculous… people have been blaming the creature for the strange happenings."

"A _wolf, _Dad? How could a wolf be causing all these problems?!"

"I told you it was ridiculous, son. But lots of people have been putting the blame on the creature saying that it carries some sort of curse or some other kind of hoodoo. Apparently before each accident someone claims to have heard it howl. It's hard to believe, but it's the only explanation anyone had come up with."

Matthew shook his head. "That's really crazy, Dad. There's no way a wolf or any animal could cause accidents like that. There's got to be another explanation as to what's going on."

"I agree with you wholeheartedly, my boy! Which brings me to the real reason I had you call. You see-"

Mr. Jones's sentence was cut short by the shrill howl that pierced through the air. Matthew felt a chill run down his spine at the hauntingly beautiful sound. As the final ring of the howl disappeared, silence fell, the kind of eerie silence that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end causes your while body to shiver. The silence's spell did not last long, however, as a new, even more chilling sound rang out. It was the sound of an explosion, a rather large one at that, and Matthew's blood ran cold. It had come from just outside the lodge.

"D-dad… I-I've got to go! Something just happened! My god…" The phone was dropped before Mr. Jones could even respond.

Berwald's heavy steps could be heard thundering their way up the creaky basement steps.

"O-outside!" Matthew could barely form words, as his body was shaking in fear. "It sounded l-like an explosion!"

Berwald's face paled as he shoved past the convulsing boy and harshly yanked his coat from the peg by the door before yanking the piece of wood open so roughly it almost came off the hinges. He seemed to be mumbling something over and over, his voice laced with fear.

After a few moments, Matthew managed to catch what he had been saying, and he felt his own heart drop into the pits of his stomach.

"P'ter."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Greetings! I'm really excited about this fanfic. (I've actually had this idea for a while, but I never got around to writing it. Until now of course!)**

**Anyway, this little story of mine is very, ****_very _****loosely based on the game Nancy Drew: White Wolf of Icicle Creek (which is awesome by the way), and I'm not really going to stick to the story line of that very much, but there will be a few similarities here and there.**

**Mattie and Alfie's dad is someone I made up, just 'cause I needed someone to own the lodge and a reason for the boys to be there, so therefore first-name-less Mr. Jones was born. Tino Balducci is a character you can call in the actual game, and I just love his so much I couldn't help but use his name in there.**

**So I think that's about it from me. I hope you all enjoyed it at least a little, teensy bit, and I'll try to update as often as I can. **

**Auf wiedersehen! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all. Nada.**

_I'm insane, I am smart_

_All it takes is a spark_

_ To ignite my bad intentions_

_And do what I do best to your heart_

_Don't be fooled, I was raised by the wolves_

_Now the moon hangs in full, so you know I won't_

_Play by the rules_

**_Raised By Wolves-Falling in Reverse_**

* * *

"P'ter."

Matthew felt like he couldn't breathe as Berwald dashed outside, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. The rush of frigid air jump-started Matthew's brain and he found himself grabbing his coat and following the Swede outside. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw just beyond the warm comfort of the entryway.

Flames. Smoke. Destruction.

The old bunkhouse near Peter's snow fort was ablaze, the little that remained of it that is. The once relatively large bunkhouse was now but a burning pile of charred wood. The ground surrounding the blaze was blackened, and there were bits of debris scattered here and there, probably sent flying due to the force of the blast. Matthew couldn't help but gasp.

The Canadian quickly caught sight of Berwald standing a few feet from the wreckage. He was desperately calling out Peter's name. Over and over. The pure emotion, the raw fear, the Swede was expressing through that one word was almost enough to being Matthew to tears.

"M-Mr. Berwald…?" Matthew called softly. The Swede didn't seem to have heard him.

"Mr. Berwald!" Matthew tried again, a little louder. It seemed to work, as the man turned to look at the boy who called him. His icy blue glare seemed more intense than Matthew had seen it yet. Matthew shivered at the cold look.

"Gotta find P'ter," Berwald replied, his eyes narrowing even more.

Matthew was about to respond when he caught sight of something moving near the tree line. It was relatively small and… blue? Matthew gasped.

"There!" he cried. "There's something there!" He held up a shaky hand and pointed towards the spot where he had seen a flash of blue. Berwald took off with speed the Canadian never imagined he could possess. Matthew followed behind as quickly as he could.

"P'ter!" the Swede called out again.

A grunt was the reply, followed by a small, "P-Papa…?" A blue-capped head popped into view as the small boy sat up from his spot in the snow.

Berwald nearly tackled the boy back down to the ground as he wrapped him in a tight embrace.

"P'ter," he breathed, "ya alright? What happen'd?"

Peter rubbed his head and winced. "I don't really remember much, Papa. I was playing in my fort and then I heard this howl… after that it's pretty fuzzy. I think there was a big boom too. The next thing I remember is waking up over here. Did something bad happen, Papa?"

Berwald pulled the child closer. "Ya. Somethin' bad. But 'm just glad yer safe. Love ya, P'ter."

The boy snuggled closely against the Swede's chest. "I love you too, Papa."

Matthew smiled fondly at the sweet display before him. He too was relieved that Peter was safe.

Berwald stood, Peter secured tightly in his arms and began to walk back towards the lodge.

"Papa?" Peter asked.

"Hm?"

"Could we have some hot chocolate when we get inside?"

Berwald smiled softly (just a small twitch of the lip, but Matthew assumed that's what he was doing) and nodded in agreement.

* * *

The next few hours were a blur. The police had arrived shortly after Peter had been found (apparently a guest with rather impressive eyebrows named Arthur had called them shortly after the blast; something that neither Berwald nor Matthew thought to do because they were preoccupied with finding Peter) and had questioned everyone present and investigated the bunkhouse remains extensively. They promised that they would keep Matthew and Berwald updated on the investigation us much as they could, but told them not to expect too much.

"These things take time," they had said.

Matthew felt sick to his stomach.

It was nearly 6pm by the time the police had finally left, and Matthew was beyond exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for the next week, but, of course, nothing today was going as Matthew planned.

Matthew approached the ringing phone slowly, his feet feeling as heavy as his drooping eyelids.

"Hello?" he answered, stifling a yawn in the back of his throat.

"Mark!" called his father's voice. "What's going on over there? I tried calling earlier but there was no answer. Is something wrong?"

Matthew paled. He had really hoped that he wouldn't have to be the one to break the news to his father, but the world just seemed to have it out for him today.

"Well," he began slowly, "you see… the police just left and-"

"Police?!" Mr. Jones yelled (quite loudly, Matthew noted as he held the phone a little farther away for the sake of his aching eardrum). "What the hell is going on, Miles?!"

Matthew sighed. "You know the old bunkhouse out front, right?"

"Yes, what about it?" His father was understandably getting more irritated by Matthew's evident stalling.

"Well, see, it kinda… a little bit… _exploded_…" Matthew's voice was barely above a whisper. He moved the phone further away to save his hearing from the inevitable loudness of his father's reaction. He was surprised, however, when his father's voice, although urgent, came across surprisingly soft.

"My god… Matthew," Matthew gasped at the fact that his father called him the correct name, "my boy, are you alright? You didn't get hurt did you? Damn it! I should've known better than to have you come out with all of this going on. Maybe it would be best if you left the lodge. I'll have Berwald take you to the airport and-"

"Woah!" Matthew exclaimed. "Dad, slow down. I'm not going anywhere, eh. I've been wanting to come back to this place for so long, I'm not going to let all of this keep me from being here. I haven't even gotten to see you yet! Not to mention all these weird things that have been going on… I don't think I _could _leave if I didn't know who's responsible. So I'm staying!"

Mr. Jones chuckled lightly. "Oh, Mitchell," _and were back to not remembering my name_, "you really are so much like your mother. The both of you, so stubborn! Alright, I guess I can't force you to leave, but if you insist on staying, I'm going to need your help."

"Help?" Matthew asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm going to need you to be my eyes and ears around there while I'm gone. Keep on the lookout for suspicious activity among any of the guests. You know, sort of like an undercover spy or something. Like in those Hardly Boys stories you and your brother used to read!"

"_Hardy _Boys, Dad," Matthew corrected. "And how do you expect me to do that? 'Hello, my name is Matthew, my dad owns this place. Have you, by any chance, taken part in any criminal activity recently?' That wouldn't be suspicious at _all._"

Mr. Jones chuckled again. "You inherited your mother's _sassiness _as well, it would seem!" Matthew rolled his eyes. "No, my boy, we are going to much sneakier than that!" Matthew could practically hear his father's smile. "You are going to become the new maid!"

_Eh?_

"You're joking, right?"

"Of course not, Millard! I would never joke about something this important!"

"But why a…" Matthew's mind flashed back to a few years ago when his cousin Francis had tricked him into a French maid costume. He shuddered at the thought. That skirt left _little _to the imagination. "Why a _maid_, Dad?"

"A maid has access to all the bedrooms in the lodge, and would have free reign to search said rooms! It's a perfect cover! Don't worry though, you wouldn't have to wear any sort of uniform or anything."

Matthew mentally face-palmed.

"B-but, Dad, wouldn't that considered trespassing or something?"

"Nah!" Mr. Jones laughed. "It'll be alright as long as you don't get caught!"

"But why _me, _Dad? Alfred would be all over this 'spy' stuff like syrup on pancakes!"

"I will never fully understand your strange obsession with pancakes, my boy. Anyway, Alfred would be terrible for this job! That boy can't keep a secret to save his life, you know that." Matthew nodded to himself. His brother was a bit of a loudmouth. "Besides, you have this certain- how should I say it- _knack _for going undetected. You're the obvious choice for this!"

Matthew sighed. He honestly couldn't disagree with that. He'd spent the majority of his life being overlooked and overshadowed by his brother. A small part of him really wanted to do this just because he had been chosen over Alfred for something for the first time in… well, ever. Another part of him, slightly larger, doubted his ability to perform the task. He'd never really had much self-confidence. But if his dad was really counting on him that much…

"I'll do it," Matthew decided, releasing another sign.

"Great!" his father exclaimed. "I know you'll a great job, Max! Now, Berwald has the master key, so be sure to get that from him, and the information about what you will be expected to do as a maid can be found on the computer there behind the desk. I really appreciate you doing this for me, son."

"Of course, Dad."

"Oh! One more thing! I've got someone coming up there to take care of the cooking, but they won't be there until tomorrow afternoon, so if you or Berwald could pick up the slack until they arrive I'd really appreciate it. We can't have hungry guests now can we!"

"Sure, Dad."

"Great!" Mr. Jones said. "I think that about settles everything then! I'm sorry that this isn't turning out to be the trip you hoped for, but I promise as soon as I get everything worked out here we will spend some quality time together. As a family."

Matthew smiled softly. "Sounds great. I can't wait."

"I should get going now. My lawyer is getting impatient with me."

"Alright, bye, Dad." Matthew replied.

"Bye, Margaret!"

The line went dead.

Matthew's father had called him many names during his 17 years of life, most of them incorrect, but now Matthew didn't really mind those various other names he had been called in the past.

At least they had been the correct gender.

* * *

Matthew clicked on the folder titled "Maid Duties."

"Maids are expected to make sure that each room is kept tidy," Matthew read out loud. "Dirty towels should be placed in the provided laundry bag (which can be found in the cabinet behind the check in counter) and deposited in the chute located next to the bathroom on the second floor. Guests' beds are also to be made daily. Both of these tasks should be completed before noon each day."

Matthew sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. This whole "maid" thing was sounding less and less appealing.

He continued to read. "The skating pond should be shoveled off after each snowfall." _So just about every day then,_ he thought. "All avalanches should be immediately reported to the Avalanche Patrol."

Since when were these maid duties?

Matthew shut down the computer and slumped back against the leather desk chair. This was not going to be fun. At _all._

Matthew stood, stretching out his stiff back and letting out a long yawn. He was already tired, but just the thought of all the responsibilities he had around the lodge now had him even more worn out than before. He decided that he would get the master key from Berwald and then head upstairs to his room for a well-deserved rest.

On his way down into the basement, Matthew ran into someone. Literally. He would've tumbled backwards if a pair of strong arms hadn't grabbed him and held him up.

"You should be more careful, _da?_ You could hurt yourself."

Matthew glanced up at the tower of a man that had caught him (_He may even be bigger than Berwald! _Matthew thought). The man had a smile on his slightly round face, one that didn't quite reach his violet eyes, and his snowy hair fell gently against his forehead. And he was _huge._ Not in an overweight way, but more in a stature and muscle kind of way. He wasn't unattractive by any means, and Matthew found his face heating up just slightly.

"M-maple!" he muttered. "I'm sorry! I wasn't paying attention!"

The man chuckled darkly. "It is okay. Just be careful,_ da?_" Matthew nodded, unable to look at the man out of embarrassment.

The man laughed again. "I am Ivan Braginski. I'm sure you've heard of me before."

Matthew gasped. "Ivan Braginski? The famous Olympic skier? _That_ Ivan Braginski?"

Ivan smiled again. "_Da, _that is me. But you have not told me who you are yet."

Matthew felt his face heat up again. "O-oh! I'm Matthew! Matthew Williams! I'm the… new maid I guess, eh."

"Ah, Matvey," Ivan chuckled again. "It is nice to meet you. New maid, hm? We will see how you do then." Ivan made a move to push past the Canadian. "I must continue my training now. We shall talk later, _da?" _

"O-of course, sir!" Matthew replied, however Ivan had already gone.

_Wow, I can't believe Ivan Braginski is staying here! _

_Things just got a lot more interesting._

* * *

Matthew collapsed onto his bed.

"Uggg, I never want to move again," he moaned.

After his encounter with Ivan on the stairs, Matthew had proceeded to the basement to ask Berwald for the master key. Matthew (after asking how Peter was feeling) explained how he had been pretty much forced into accepting the maid position and that a new cook would be arriving the following day.

Berwald hummed in response, not to Matthew's surprise, and handed the key over to him. Matthew all but ran to his room. His rest was long overdue.

Having already changed into his maple leaf pajamas, Matthew grabbed his stuffed polar bear (named Mr. Kumacoffee or something. He could never remember) and was about to drift off into a nice, peaceful sleep when a noise from outside his window jolted him awake. Groaning, Matthew went to investigate.

His eyes scanned the edge of the forest for anything that could've caused the disturbance. Seeing nothing, Matthew was about to give up when a flash of white caught his attention. He only saw it for a brief moment, but its movements and body structure looked distinctly human to him. But it had moved so quickly he couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was the white wolf his father had mentioned? Although he was sure the figure had been much taller than a wolf should have been…

No. It couldn't possibly have been human. It was definitely some sort of animal. He merely saw it wrong. He was tired and his eyes were playing tricks on him.

After all, there was no way a human could've moved that quickly.

…Right?

* * *

**A/N:**

**Crappy endings are crappy.**

**It's like 3 in the morning, but I had to get this written down before my mind forgot what I wanted to say. **

**Anyway! Speedy updates are fun. Hopefully I can get Gil into the next chapter (if not, then definitely the one after that!), but Alfie is definitely showing up next time! Along with a few other familiar faces. **

**Thank you for reading! **

**Auf wiedersehen! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: You know what I'm going to say. I own nothing. Nichts. **

_Wayward winds, the voice that sings of a forgotten land_

_See it fall, child of wolf_

_Lend a mending hand_

_When I run through the deep dark forest long after this begun_

_Where the sun would set, trees were dead, and the rivers were none_

_And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place_

_But there was no sound_

_There was only me and my disgrace_

**_Wolf-First Aid Kit_**

* * *

Matthew awoke with a groan. It was about 7:15 (much too early, in his opinion), and he knew that along with his new _maid_ duties, he was responsible for making breakfast for the guests this morning. He groaned again and grudgingly rolled out of bed.

He slipped out of his pajamas and pulled on a loose pair of jeans and a red, long-sleeved thermal t-shirt. The Canadian yawned wildly as he pulled on his socks and dark brown boots. He picked up the master key from the bedside table where he had placed it the night before, and he turned to leave his room (not without first bidding farewell to Mr. Kumakaoru, of course.)

Matthew tried to rub the sleep from his stinging eyes as he walked downstairs. Not only was he trying to function after the worst night of sleep of his life, he was also nursing a pounding headache. He had tossed and turned for hours last night, and despite being so ridiculously exhausted, he just couldn't get himself to fall asleep. The thought of the figure in the woods was haunting him.

Releasing another yawn, Matthew reached the kitchen and found Berwald already there beginning breakfast preparations.

"Mornin'," the Swede greeted him. "C'ffee?"

"Yes please," Matthew practically begged. "Do we have any Tylenol, eh?" He rubbed his temples harshly to try to get the aching of his head to go away.

Berwald grunted and poured Matthew a mug of steaming coffee before taking a bottle of Acetaminophen from the cabinet next to him.

"Thank you," Matthew mumbled, fixing his coffee to his (ridiculously sweet) liking. He poured in a bit of cream, about 7 and a half spoonfuls of sugar, and a couple drops a maple syrup before taking a sip and deeming it acceptable. He popped off the (stupid hard to open) child-proof cap of the pain killer and dropped a few into his mouth, swallowing in them down with his coffee. He felt better already.

"So, what are we making for breakfast?" Matthew asked.

"P'ncakes," Berwald replied.

Matthew almost did a happy dance.

"Alright!" he said, suddenly feeling more energized. "Let's get started then, eh?"

Berwald nodded and the two began gathering the necessary ingredients. They worked in a comfortable silence. Matthew had started feeling a lot less on edge around the Swede, and honestly enjoyed the time he spent cooking with him. He smiled a bit as he poured a small amount of batter onto the hot griddle.

There were currently six people staying at the lodge, including himself, Berwald, and Peter.

Matthew had made enough pancakes to feed the combined numbers of all the Military forces in the North American continent.

Twice.

Even Berwald couldn't keep the look of surprise from his face.

Matthew was a pancake making _machine._

And Matthew's pancake making ability was rivaled only by his pancake _eating_ ability.

* * *

Having successfully devouring well over half of the pancakes he had made for breakfast, Matthew sighed contentedly and patted his stomach. Berwald offered to take care of the clean-up, so Matthew went off to take care of his other responsibilities.

His _maid_ _duties._

Matthew clearly was not excited about this.

He slowly sulked over to the large cabinet that was located behind the check-in desk. He located the large, white canvas laundry bag quickly and slung it half-heartedly across his arm. He then pulled out a slip of paper (Berwald had given it to him with the master key) that told his which guests were in which rooms.

_Pish Pish- Arthur Kirkland_

_Ollalie- Elizabeta Héderváry_

_Eena- Vacant_

_Kalakala- Ivan Braginski_

_Chinook- Vacant_

_Kwel Kwel- Matthew Williams_

Matthew scanned the paper quickly before shoving it back into his pocket and leaving the check in area. He climbed the stairs and noticed for the first time (he had been in a hurry to get to bed the night before and hadn't really studied the hallway's furnishings) the giant pig head hung on the way at the end of the hall.

It was just… _staring_ at him.

Matthew involuntarily shivered. _I didn't sign up for "Lord of the Flies," eh. _He shot the pig one more wary glance before ducking into the first occupied guest room that wasn't his. Since the room across from Matthew's (_Chinook,_ he recalled) was vacant, the room he ended up in was Kalakala, where Ivan was staying.

Matthew was a bit thankful that the skier wasn't currently in the room to witness his somewhat childish hiding from an inanimate pig head.

That would've been horribly embarrassing.

Matthew shook the pig from his thoughts and began his _maid duties _in Ivan's room. The Russian's room was surprisingly tidy. His bed didn't even look it had been slept in. _Interesting,_ Matthew thought. The Canadian turned to collect the used towels from the rack he knew would be against the wall just inside the door and suddenly came face-to-face with a_ huge_ stuffed moose head. He squealed.

_The taxidermy game is strong here._

Forcing his eyes away from the moose, he noticed a small desk just below the (admittedly freaky) head, upon which rested a sporting magazine of some sort. Curious, Matthew picked it up and flipped through it. One specific article caught his attention. Apparently a winter sport championship of some sort was rumored to be taking place in the area sometime soon. _Perhaps that's why Ivan picked this place to train, _Matthew wondered. He placed the magazine back down on the desk.

Matthew picked up the bright orange towels and shoved them into the laundry bag before leaving Ivan's room.

The room across from Ivan (Eena) was also currently vacant, so Matthew traveled a bit further down the long hallway (keeping a close eye on that pig the whole time) and ended up in at the Ollalie room, which was on the right side of the hall next to Ivan's room.

According to his note, the room belonged to a woman named Elizabeta, whom Matthew didn't recall meeting yet. He knocked on the door, and hearing no response, entered. He went through the motions: made the bed, picked up the towels (red in this room), and snooped through strangers' belongings. He noticed Elizabeta had quite a few articles about Ivan in her possession. He assumed she was probably some huge fangirl or something. After one final check, he left the room.

There was only one room left to clean (_Thank god)_, the Pish Pish, which belonged to a man named Arthur. Matthew remembered he was the bushy-browed Brit who had called the police after the bunkhouse bombing. Arthur's room didn't really contain anything Matthew found particularly suspicious, just a couple of books on engineering and one on precious. _To each his own, I guess._ Matthew stuffed Arthur's green towels into the laundry bag and silently thanked the lord that he was done.

Matthew walked back to the other end of the hallway and easily located the laundry chute that was next to the bathroom. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he released the now full bag and heard it tumble down into the wherever that chute went. Matthew sighed (something he had been doing a lot of since arriving at the lodge) and was looking forward to getting to relax by the fire for the rest of the afternoon.

Of course, since the universe clearly had it out for him, those plans came tumbling down at the (extremely) loud calling of something in his direction.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaattieeeeeee!"

He had never hated the sound of his own name so much in his whole life.

"Hello, Alfred," he mumbled, feeling his headache from that morning slowly making a return.

His brother, taking the steps two at a time, arrived at Matthew's side in mere moments, full on tackling him in a hug that almost sent the brothers to the floor.

"I missed you so much, Little Bro!" Alfred exclaimed, rubbing his cheek against Matthew's fluffy head. Matthew found the whole thing to be quite disturbing and obnoxious, but with Alfred that was usually the norm. "I bet you missed me too, huh? Of course you did! How could you not miss me? No need to worry now, though! The Hero has arrived! Hahaha!"

Matthew patted his brother's back awkwardly. "Good to see you too, Al. B-but I kinda can't breathe, so could you let me go now, eh?"

Alfred released his brother, still laughing. "Sorry, bro. I guess I can get a little too excited sometimes!"

….That was the understatement of the year.

"Just a bit, Al," Matthew replied, smiling a bit. His brother really was something else.

Alfred F. Jones ("The 'F' stands for _freedom!" _Alfred would tell everyone. Which was a lie. It stood for Franklin, but Alfred insisted that wasn't heroic enough) was an 18-year-old freshman in college and had the biggest hero complex of anyone Matthew had ever met. It was a bit ridiculous, actually. Despite being older, he acted quite childishly the majority of the time, leaving Matthew the job of being the "responsible child." Not that it mattered though. He had been living in Alfred's shadow his whole life.

Now, Matthew loved his brother, he really did, but he couldn't help but resent him a bit for constantly stealing the spotlight. Matthew knew it wasn't really Alfred's fault; he was tall, athletic, had nice, wheat-colored blond hair (with that little flyaway piece he had dubbed "Nantucket" for reasons unknown), and a pair of sky blue eyes that shone even from behind his thin rimmed glasses. He really stood out, especially with that personality of his.

Then there was Matthew. Mousy, quiet, awkward Matthew. It was easy to be overlooked when you had a brother like Alfred.

"Oh!" Alfred's loud voice brought Matthew out of his inner pity-party. "I almost forgot! You're never going to guess who I ran into at the airport! It was the craziest thing, bro! I was just walking along, y'know? And then he was just right there in front of me and I was like 'woah!' Isn't that crazy?"

Matthew was about to bring up the fact that Alfred didn't actually mention _who_ it was that he ran into when another voice joined in the conversation.

"Are you talking about me, _mon cher?_"

No. Freaking. Way.

"F-Francis?" Matthew stood dumbfounded as his cousin came into view at the bottom on the stairs.

Francis Bonnefoy, 22 years of age, stood smirking up at his little cousins. His shoulder length blond hair was pulled back messily, but stylishly, and his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. He had this air of seduction that surrounded him constantly (one which Matthew found slightly disturbing) and would try to hit on just about anything that moved.

Francis had yet to remove his long purple-blue trench coat thing ("It's a cloak, non?") and the ends of his burgundy pants were stuffed into a pair of black boots. He honestly didn't look very warm, but for Francis, looking good was always priority one.

"_Bonjour, _Mathieu," Francis replied, his smirk widening into a full grin.

"I thought you were studying at some culinary school in France!" Matthew exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Francis chuckled. "I was actually visiting _ma mère _in New York City when I received the strangest call from _Oncle. _He said that his cook and maid had just quit and practically begged me to come up here to fill in until he could find someone to stay permanently." Francis's eyes twinkled with something Matthew had long grown to be terrified of. "He also mentioned you were playing maid, _mon cher. _Too bad I did not have that cute little maid outfit with me for you to wear, _oui?"_

Matthew shuddered. "Yeah. T-too bad, eh."

Alfred, being the completely oblivious man he was, totally could not read the atmosphere. "Mattie's the _maid? _Hahaha! Dude, that sounds so girly."

Matthew's face heated up in embarrassment. "Sh-shut up, Al."

Alfred's laugh (somehow) increased in volume. "I'm just messing with you, bro! Hahaha!" He glanced at his phone to check the time. "_Dude! _It's totally lunch time already! The Hero must eat to keep up his heroic strength!" And with that Alfred took off down the stairs and ran to the kitchen.

Matthew face-palmed.

"He has not changed a bit, has he?" Francis asked.

"No," Matthew replied. "Not at all."

* * *

Since they did not know exactly what time the new cook would be arriving, Berwald had already begun to prepare lunch (which turned out to be hamburgers much to "The Hero's" immense joy), so Matthew and Francis decided to take a seat on one of the couches located in the main lobby area of the lodge. Alfred, since he had run ahead, was not seated with them, but had instead plopped down at an odd-looking game table with the Brit with the large eyebrows and had begun to annoy him about something-or-another.

Matthew rather enjoyed this room; it was relatively large with a sizable stone fireplace and various seating options. In the center of the room was a rather wide pillar. On one side was the game table where Alfred and Arthur sat (_Is Arthur blushing?_), and on the other were a bunch of framed pictures and random item's that had belonged to the lodge's original owner, some guy named Trapper Dan. Matthew had found the display rather interesting when he was younger, but his brother thought it to be boring and would drag Matthew away from it to go play outside before really had a chance to read anything.

And of course the most prominent pieces in the room were the stuffed animals.

Not the cute, fluffy kind that you slept with as a kid. No.

The taxidermy kind.

There was a rather large (as in _full-sized_) bear in the corner by the window, and two stuffed heads on the pillar in the center of the room, one on either side.

Matthew liked to pretend they didn't exist. It was much less freaky that way.

Berwald emerged from the kitchen to announce that lunch was ready, and Alfred (no surprise, really) was the first to leap from his seat and run in the general direction of food. Matthew just shook his head.

* * *

Lunch was very pleasant. Berwald had done an amazing job on the burgers. Such a good job, in fact, that the food had nearly brought Alfred to tears as he ran around exclaiming that it was "even better than McDonald's, dude!" Matthew, never being a big fan of the franchise, did not see this a much of a compliment, but considering that it was coming from Alfred, it was definitely a big deal.

After everything had been cleaned up, Matthew had decided that he was going to return to his room to try and catch up on his lost sleep when his brother called him over to the game table.

"Mattie, dude! Have you ever played this Fox and Geese game? It's awesome! I've been kicking Artie's butt at it for a while now."

Arthur blushed. "You have not!" he insisted. "And it's _Arthur_, not Artie!"

Alfred laughed. "Whatever you say, Art." He sent a wink at the red-faced Brit, whose blush darkened even more.

"That's great, Al, but why exactly did you call me over here, eh?" Matthew asked, just a bit irritated.

"Oh yeah! I almost forgot!" Alfred laughed. Matthew rolled his eyes. "Do you think you could go clean off the skating pond? I wanna show Artie my heroic moves on the ice."

"…Alfred," Matthew said, "you're a terrible skater."

"Not true, Mattie!" Alfred replied defensively. "There is nothing the Hero cannot do! So could you pretty, pretty _pleeeease_ go clear off the skating pond for me?" Alfred flashed Matthew the puppy eyes that he knew the Canadian was weak against.

Matthew groaned. _Damn you, Alfred. _"Whatever, eh. I'm supposed to clean it off after every snowfall as part of my _maid duties _anyway, "He cringed at those words while Alfred let loose another loud laugh.

"Thanks, bro!" Alfred sent him a smile and a thumbs up. "Isn't that great, Artie?"

The Brit simply nodded in response, still flustered over the whole "winking" incident.

Matthew rolled his eyes, deciding that his brother was a huge idiot.

* * *

Matthew scraped the metallic shovel over the top of the skating pond over and over, cursing his brother with every movement.

He'd been out there for over an hour, shoveling away at what seemed to be endless amounts of snow. He'd nearly fallen over 6 times, couldn't feel any of his extremities, and was pretty sure that he was developing a cold. Even through all this, there was one thing his mind kept focusing on.

_Alfred. _

Matthew decided that this was definitely the last time he ever gave into one of his brother's stupid whims (of course that's what he'd said after the incident with the shaving cream and the pony in the strawberry patch), and he was going to give that _hoser _a what for when he got back to lodge.

That was of course, if he ever finished cleaning off this _damn_ skating pond.

The next half-hour passed extremely slowly for Matthew, but when he had finally managed to scrape off the last bit of snow, he had to force himself from screaming and throwing the stupid shovel across the ice.

With the fire of Alfred resentment burning in him, Matthew began his long trek back to the lodge. He had only made it a few feet from the pond when he noticed a set of tracks that he hadn't seen earlier. They definitely weren't human, though they were relatively large. _Could they be…wolf tracks?_ Matthew, try as he might to contain it, had a curiosity that was hard to tame, so, against his better judgment, he began to follow the tracks to wherever they went.

Because it's always a good idea to go in the same direction as the potentially deadly wild animal.

Matthew could see the faint outline of mountains appearing on the horizon, and soon came across a sign which read "Chicken Ridge." Matthew found the name to be humorous. After a few more feet, the wolf tracks began to disappear. It seemed to Matthew that they were beginning to change in shape as well. Almost becoming more… human. But that was impossible, right?

Before Matthew had a chance to really investigate, a chilling sound pierced through the air.

A howl.

Matthew felt his heart start to race.

Last time he heard that howl, the bunkhouse had exploded. Did that mean that-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a powerful explosion, one that shook the very ground he stood upon. The next sound he heard, however, was a new one, one he wasn't familiar with.

Understandable, really. It's not every day you hear the sound of an avalanche heading towards you at frightening speeds.

Matthew Williams, age 17, did the only thing he could think to do.

He ran like hell.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I love cliffhangers 'cause I'm evil. XD **

**Wowzers, I had a hard time writing this chapter for some reason. I'm pretty happy with it, though.**

**I'm currently living off of animal crackers and Mountain Dew Voltage, and have done nothing but write for 2 days straight now. Therefore, since I am too lazy to move, I am also too lazy to proof read this, so if there are any noticeable mistakes, I apologize. Feel free to point them out to me, too. **

**Just a couple things:**

**To you guys who favorited, followed, and reviewed, I love you. Getting those notifications made me super happy, like you don't even know. So thank you very, very much!**

**I don't speak French. At ****_all. _****So I'm depending on internet translators for that.**

**The Fox and Geese game that Alfie mentions is from the Nancy Drew game (as are the weird room names) and it is the bane of my existence. It's stupid hard and you have to play it like 3 time and I just… ugggg. No me gusta.**

**I couldn't manage to fit Gil into this chapter (*sad face*), but he is ****_definitely _****making an appearance next time. Like, first thing. **

**And USUK is going to a thing here too, if you couldn't tell already. 'Cause Alfie and Artie are my baes.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. That's it from me for now!**

**Tschüss!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

_The sunken-in eyes_

_And the pain in his cries_

_A shape in the dark_

_Cry wolf_

_Time to worry_

_Cry wolf_

_Time worry now_

**_Cry Wolf-A ha_**

* * *

Matthew wasn't completely sure why he thought himself capable of outrunning an _avalanche_, but he sure as hell tried. He had decided that at least attempting to escape his impending doom was better than just standing there and taking it full force. For the first few seconds, he actually thought that he could make it.

The fact that he was now buried under who-knows-how-many feet of snow brought that hope down very quickly.

Matthew was alive, somehow, but he honestly didn't know how long that would be the case. He could barely move any of this limbs (he couldn't tell if they were broken or if it was because of the weight on the snow), and his already small air supply was decreasing with each rapid breath he took. He was going to die here, and they were never going to find his body.

That realization struck Matthew hard. He didn't want to die here. No. He _refused_ to die here. He was going to get out of this, and he was going to give his brother a piece of his mind. It was as if the thought of chewing out Alfred fueled him on, and Matthew began to scream and violently thrash his body around. His range of motion was extremely limited, but he tried his hardest to try to claw his way to the surface.

The air was becoming very thin, and the more Matthew yelled, the less there was. Matthew felt the sting of icy tears on his face. He was feeling very light headed, and his strength was leaving him.

Maybe this really was the end after all.

He didn't think he could stay conscious for much longer.

This was it.

He'd never see Alfred again. He wondered if his stupidly annoying (but amazing and wonderful) big brother would miss him. What about his dad? Would his dad even notice he was gone? _Of course he would,_ Matthew tried to reassure himself. _Mom wouldn't though, _he thought. _She was the one who never saw me. _Matthew felt the tears continue to fall down his cheeks.

He thought of everyone at the lodge. Francis, Berwald, Peter, even Mr. Kumajojo; would they miss him?

Matthew hoped they would, because he didn't have the strength to go on anymore.

He was about to give up hope completely, but he heard a noise coming from above him. It sounded a bit like… digging? _No, it couldn't be… but I suppose I'm dead anyway, eh. There's nothing to lose._ Matthew thrashed around a bit more and filled his lungs with the last bit of oxygen he could take from the air.

"Here! Down here!" he yelled, his head spinning. "P-please! Help! Can't… breathe…" His lungs were screaming at him, begging for air. The pain was unimaginable.

The snow above him crunched as it was (he assumed) being torn away.

The last thing Matthew saw before he blacked out was a painfully bright white.

And a deep blood red.

* * *

Matthew was dead.

Or, at least he was pretty sure that he was.

There's no way he survived, so he must be dead.

He didn't expect Heaven to so cold though. Was this Hell? No, Hell wouldn't be cold either. Then this was probably Limbo or something. Limbo could feasibly be cold. Maybe? Matthew didn't particularly believe in Limbo though…

Well, he was somewhere. He knew that much for sure.

And he was most definitely dead.

…

Right?

Matthew groaned as his eyes fluttered open. His whole body ached, and he was still feeling very light headed. Could you feel pain like this when you were dead? He slowly started to sit up, every one of his muscles screaming at him, and he noticed a bandage wrapped tightly around his left arm, which was resting gently in a cloth sling.

"I patched you up pretty awesomely, _ja?_" an unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke up from behind him.

Matthew squealed, flailing a bit, and quickly spun around (which _hurt_) on the bed he had just realized he was laying on.

He saw someone (a man, he concluded from the voice) standing off in the corner, partially hidden in the shadows.

The man laughed; it was a strange laugh unlike any Matthew had heard before, but it wasn't unpleasant. "You sounded just like a little bird just now! And how you flapped your arms around! That was pretty awesome to watch." The man laughed for a moment longer before taking a step out from the shadows. "So tell me, _Vögelchen_, what were you doing under a pile of snow?"

Matthew's eyed widened and he couldn't stop himself from gasping.

Beautiful.

Matthew could think of no other way to describe the man before him.

Maybe this was Heaven after all.

His skin was so incredibly pale it was almost translucent. He had on a loose pair of light-wash jeans, a black short sleeve t-shirt (which really stood out against his skin), and no shoes. Matthew wondered how the man wasn't freezing to death. On the man's head was a bright yellow beanie, from under which Matthew could see some startlingly white hair sticking out. But what had Matthew so helplessly captivated was the man's eyes.

They were color of blood.

And they were the most beautiful eyes Matthew had ever seen.

Not that he'd say that out loud.

The man smirked and took another step forward (Matthew thought he saw a flash of something white behind the man for a moment, but it was gone so quickly he assumed he had imagined.)

"I know I'm awesome to look at, _Vögelchen, _but it's rude to stare."

Matthew blushed furiously and looked away. "S-sorry…" he whispered.

"If you don't speak up, people can't hear you, _Vögelchen._" The man took a few more steps towards Matthew.

"S-sorry!" Matthew said a bit louder.

The man laughed again. "_Gut,_ that's much better!" He was right in front of Matthew now, and he squatted down, his face inches from the Canadian's. "But you still haven't answered my question. What were you doing under the snow, hm?" His breath tickled Matthew's face, and the Canadian felt a bit uncomfortable, so he scooted back a bit on the bed. The man chuckled. "Well?"

"It's kind of a long story, eh," he finally replied.

He felt the bed dip down a bit as the man sat down beside him (Matthew noticed he shifted his weight around a little awkwardly for a moment, but thought nothing of it). "Well you're in luck, _Vögelchen,_ because I am an awesome listener! So get on with it already!"

Matthew frowned. "Why should I tell you anything?" he asked, feeling a bit brave. "I don't even know you!"

The man smirked. "I am the awesome Gilbert! And you are _mein Vögelchen. _There, now we know each other so you can talk. Go on!"

_Man, this guy is pushy, _Matthew thought. "I don't know what the heck a 'Vogel-whatever' is, my name is _Matthew_, and I still don't know why I should have to tell you anything!"

"Matthew, huh?" Gilbert said. "Alright then _Matthew_, considering I saved your life out there, I think the Awesome Me deserves an explanation,_ ja?"_

"Y-you're the one who saved me?" Matthew asked.

Gilbert let loose another round of laughs. "Well _duh, Vögelchen, _who else could've done something so awesome? You should really be thanking me."

"But why?" Matthew asked.

"It would be pretty unawesome not to thank someone who went out of their way to save your life."

"No," Matthew corrected, "why did you save me? What was your reasoning? You could've just let me die out there, so why didn't you?"

Gilbert suddenly became stiff. "It's not awesome to let someone die when it's in your ability to protect them, _Vögelchen._" His tone was so serious, it honestly surprised Matthew a bit. After a moment Gilbert relaxed. "So! Now that we have that cleared up, how about you tell me your story now?"

Matthew was a bit concerned about Gilbert's sudden personality 180, but he decided to let it go. With a long sigh, he grudgingly began to tell the red-eyed man everything that had happened.

* * *

"So let me see if I've got this right," Gilbert said after Matthew had finished. "Your brother asked you to hike out to some frozen puddle in the middle of nowhere and clean it off so he and his boyfriend-"

"Arthur's not his boyfriend," Matthew cut it.

"It's unawesome to interrupt, _Vögelchen. _Now, where was I? Oh yes. He asked you to go all the way out there to clean off the ice so he and his boyfriend could goof off like a couple of idiots, and you did since you're a huge pushover." Matthew looked like he wanted to interject, but Gilbert shot him a look that made him hold his tongue. "_Anyway_, you spent a couple of hours out there cleaning the thing off, getting more and more pissed off at your brother, and you decided to go kick his ass when you finished. Then you started following some random tracks through the woods for no real reason and got caught up in an avalanche, from which the Awesome Me awesomely rescued you. Is that about it?"

Matthew nodded, not sure if he was allowed to talk again yet.

"Well you are damn lucky I happened to be out there, _Vögelchen_," Gilbert said, his tone turning a bit serious again.

"I was wondering about that," Matthew said.

"About what?" Gilbert asked.

"How did you know where I was, eh?"

"I was out walking nearby and I heard you screaming," Gilbert replied immediately.

"I know I was yelling pretty loudly," Matthew continued, "but it must have been hard to hear from above unless you were standing really close by and I don't-"

"I have really awesome ears,_ ja?_" Gilbert interrupted.

Matthew frowned. "But, as I was saying, I don't remember seeing anybody anywhere close to where I was. There was only the wolf tracks." That struck a chord in Matthew's memory. "There was something weird about those tracks," he said, trying to get his mind to work.

He didn't notice how Gilbert paled (well, paled more than normal).

"Oh!" Matthew exclaimed. "I think I remember now! The tracks were weird because they started changing to-"

Gilbert all but jumped from his seat (there was that flash of white again too!). "You want a drink or something?" he asked, sounding a bit urgent.

"Y-yes please," Matthew replied, feeling a bit confused by the man's reaction. He shivered. "Something warm if you have it?"

Gilbert nodded and made his way over to the other side of the room and started rummaging through some cabinets that were there.

Matthew found that entire thing incredibly strange, but chose not to think too much into it.

He decided that Gilbert was just incredibly eccentric.

Matthew took the opportunity to take a look around, something he hadn't really had a chance to do because of Gilbert's continuous badgering from the moment he woke up. The place was very small and rundown, and the bed took up the majority of the space. Honestly, it was more like a shack than anything. The walls were all a faded gray color, and there was a horrible draft. There we no appliances of any kind, only a small stone fireplace with a small blaze going inside it (over which Gilbert appeared to be heating some water). Matthew thought that the place felt horribly lonely. Did Gilbert live out here all by himself? The thought made Matthew feel strangely sad.

"Here," Gilbert said suddenly, surprising Matthew a bit. The Canadian took the worn-looking mug that the pale man was trying to give him. There appeared to be some sort of tea inside.

"Thank you," Matthew said, taking a small sip. It was delicious and really helped to warm him.

"_Ja_," Gilbert mumbled, taking a sip of his own beverage before joining Matthew on the bed again.

They sat there drinking in an awkward silence until Matthew spoke up.

"So why do you live out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Gilbert smirked a bit. "What makes you think we're out in the middle of nowhere, _Vögelchen?"_

"It's incredibly quiet, first of all," Matthew explained, "and you said that you were out walking near the ridge, which is far away from just about everything. It would only make sense that you lived far away from everything too."

"You're pretty observant, _Vögelchen._" Gilbert chuckled. "I don't really… _fit in_ with other people. They can't handle my awesomeness. So I decided to be awesome out here on my own instead!"

Matthew frowned. "But doesn't it… get lonely? Being all alone all the time?"

"I wasn't always alone, _Vögelchen,_" Gilbert replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Matthew was just about to ask him what he meant by that when he happened to glance down at his watch.

"Maple!" he exclaimed. "Is it really after 5 already?! I need to get back!" Matthew hopped up, cringing at the pain that ran through his body.

"Wait!" Gilbert cried, grabbing onto the Canadian's arm. His mug of tea sat abandoned on the floor.

Matthew stared at him. Gilbert was acting strange, well, stranger than he normally acted. Matthew frowned again.

"I've really got to get back, Gilbert," Matthew insisted.

"But you might get lost out there or something! That would be so unawesome! Maybe it would better if you just stayed here for a while…"

Oh.

_Oh._

Gilbert didn't want Matthew you leave. Was he honestly that lonely? Is that why he was acting so strangely? He really wanted _Matthew _to hang around? Matthew's heart fluttered a little at that thought. Someone actually wanted to spend time with _him. _With _Matthew_ (he chose to ignore the fact that Gilbert lived in the middle of nowhere and probably had about 0 interaction with any humans other than Matthew). He found himself smiling just a bit. He honestly enjoyed spending time with Gilbert, despite his pushy, egotistic nature (but then again Alfred was Matthew's brother so he was already used to dealing with that).

"I really can't stay now, Gilbert," Matthew began.

"But-"

"It's unawesome to interrupt, Gilbert."

Matthew could've sworn those pale cheeks gained a bit of color just then.

"But," Matthew continued, "maybe I can come back sometime, eh?" Gilbert perked up a bit at that. "Don't worry about me getting lost either," Matthew assured him, "I practically grew up out there, so I'll be fine."

Gilbert's signature smirk returned. "Well, well, well! It seems like _mein Vögelchen_ can take care of himself after all!" Gilbert laughed and released his hold on Matthew's arm. It seemed as if he was back to his old self, but Matthew noticed a hint of uncertainty in those red eyes.

"Of course I can!" Matthew insisted. He began to walk towards the door. He felt Gilbert's eyes on him as he reached for the door handle with his good arm. He turned to face the man behind him. "I'll be back soon, Gil." The nickname just slipped out. Gilbert noticed it and grinned.

"Of course you will! Why would anyone want to stay away from the Awesome Me?" He was definitely back to normal.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Gilbert. And thank you." Matthew opened the door and stepped out into the snow, pulling the door closed behind him.

"_Auf wiedersehen, mein Vögelchen."_

* * *

Matthew had grossly overestimated his own sense of direction.

When he had left Gilbert's little shack (upon seeing from the outside, he decided that it really was a shack after all), Matthew felt pretty confident in the way he had chosen to go.

Now he had no idea where we was.

Matthew groaned and kept walking, shivering violently from the cold.

The Canadian couldn't keep Gilbert out of his head. He found the man completely fascinating. He could go from being loud, demanding, and full of himself one moment to quiet, vulnerable, and almost childlike the next. Gilbert was an enigma. A loud, kind, annoying, caring, beautiful enigma. Matthew felt warmer just thinking about him.

Now if only he could find the way back to the lodge.

Matthew wasn't sure exactly how long he wandered around before he came across an interesting set of tracks in the snow. They weren't wolf prints this time, or any other animal for that matter. They were a set of continuous parallel lines. _If these are what I think they are I will drink a bottle of maple syrup._

Matthew ran alongside the tracks for a few more minutes before the (beautiful and inviting) roof of the lodge came into view.

_God bless you, Ivan. God bless you and your skis. _

There were two things Matthew needed to do now.

Drink some syrup (he had promised himself that he would after all) and try not to murder his brother.

* * *

That evening at the lodge was eventful to say the least.

Matthew, on an intense sugar-high, ran up to Alfred (who was sitting at the game table with Arthur again) in order to give him a piece of his mind. As Matthew approached, Alfred noticed the sling and bandages and started freaking out. He was screaming something about being the hero and destroying whatever villain had dared to injure his precious little brother. Arthur started yelling at him to be quiet and sit down and stop "acting like a bloody idiot." Matthew decided he really didn't want to deal with that right now.

Francis had prepared some sort of salmon dish for dinner, but Matthew was feeling a bit ill from the amount of maple syrup he had ingested, so he decided to go lay down in his bed.

Which is where he was currently, holding Mr. Kumajingles snuggly against him and wanting nothing more than to just get some sleep.

Which he couldn't, not only because he was so hopped up on sugar that he was about to jump out of his bed and run around the room, but because of something else that he could seem to shake from him mind.

Those haunting blood-red eyes.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hola~**

**I've never tried to write Gil before, so if he seems weird or whatever I'm really sorry. *^***

**And I know Mattie's personality seems kind of all over the place, but that is on purpose. I felt that when he's around people he's really familiar and comfortable with (like Alfie), he's a lot more outgoing and outspoken then if he's with people that he doesn't know very well (like when he meets Berwald). And he warms up to Gil so fast because, you know, he's awesome. Does that make sense? I'm sorry if that's weird or anything. My personality is a bit like that, and they say to write what you know, right? **

**I feel a lot more confident in my knowledge of German than I do with French, since I've actually studied German, but I'm not claiming to be perfect so corrections on anything are always welcome!**

**I think that's about all I wanted to say, so thanks for reading!**

**Adios! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is this cookie I'm eating. But it's gone now. So I own nothing.**

**And just a quick little note before I start, I mention a bit of Fox and Geese gameplay in this chapter, and since I guarantee almost none of you know what that is, I'll just give you a quick summary of it. It's a bit like checkers. Basically, it's for two players, one plays as the geese (there are multiple geese tokens) and one as the fox (which there is one of). The "geese player" moves their pieces to try to trap the fox in one of the four corners of the game board, while the "fox player" tries to jump as many geese as possible and take them off the board. The game ends when either the geese trap the fox or the fox "eats" enough geese to make trapping him impossible. And it's friggin hard. Anyway, I hope that makes sense. Now, to the story!**

_It's another bad dream_

_Poison in my blood stream_

_I'm dying but I can't scream_

_Will you show me the way?_

_It's another wolf bite_

_Howlin' in the moonlight_

_I wanna get my life right_

_Will you show me the way?_

_Tonight_

**_Wolf Bite-Owl City_**

* * *

"G-Gil, wait," Matthew breathed.

The man before him chuckled, tightening his grip on the Canadian's hips. "Are you embarrassed,_ Vögelchen?"_

Matthew nodded, feeling his cheeks grow warm. He shut his eyes.

"Look at me." Gilbert's breath tickled his ears (which were now also bright red).

"N-no," Matthew replied.

"_Vögelchen,_" Gilbert demanded. "_Sieh mich an._" Matthew shivered as he felt the strong hands move from his hips and press gently against his waist. A pair of chapped lips brushed against his earlobe.

Matthew hesitantly opened his eyes. His breath hitched.

Gilbert's eyes were practically glowing. They were like pools of hot, steaming blood, filled with desire and passion. So captivating and terrifying and beautiful. They were burning into him like red-hot coals. Matthew couldn't look away.

Gilbert's signature smirk was placed on his lips, but this one was different. It wasn't the usual teasing playful smirk. No. This one portrayed something else. It was possessive and seductive. It was _stunning._ Everything about this man had Matthew completely immobilized.

A pale hand removed itself from Matthew's waist and came up to caress his blushing face.

"There we go _mein Vögelchen,_" Gilbert whispered, his face moving to closer towards the blushing Canadian. "Only look at me."

Matthew gasped as a pair of lips softly brushed against his and-

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP_**

Matthew flailed wildly, knocking his alarm off the bedside table, and then joined it face down on the floor, Mr. Kumagoro landing next to him.

What in the name of _maple_ was that?

His mind did _not _just come up with all of that. That dream was just… it was…

It wasn't all that bad actually.

…

_What?!_

Matthew unwound himself from the tangle of sheets he was caught in and stood. He needed to find something else to occupy his mind. _Now._

He decided to skip breakfast (his stomach was still a bit upset from all the syrup) and instead take a nice, long, potentially cold shower because he just felt downright _weird_. Matthew grabbed one of the fluffy, white towels from the large wardrobe in his room and a change of clothes before making his way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. The bathroom situation at the lodge had always been a bit of a problem considering there was only one available for use, which is why Matthew was taking advantage of the opportunity while everyone else was eating.

He entered the small room and, after locking the door, proceeded to turn on the water and remove his clothes and bandages. After hanging his towel over the shower rod and deeming the water an acceptable temperature (he had decided that a cold one was not needed), he pulled back the moose-print curtain and stepped under the spray. He sighed as the warm water cascaded down his back and shoulders.

Now (not that Matthew would ever admit it), the Canadian boy was a bit of a shower singer.

Although, in all honesty, he was more of a shower _performer._

Matthew had a rather large repertoire of "shower songs" which he would pick from, the majority of the being Disney.

"_Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?_

_Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?_

_Wouldn't you think I'm the girl_

_The girl who has everything?"_

Matthew's tune of choice for today was from "The Little Mermaid," one of his personal favorites.

"_Look at this trove_

_Treasures untold_

_How many wonders can one cavern hold?_

_Lookin' around here you'd think, sure, she's got everything"_

Matthew squeezed a bit of shampoo into his hand and began to massage it into his scalp. It was one of those "manly smelling" shampoos. Alfred had bought it for him in the hopes that would help boost Matthew's "manly image" ("Just like in the commercials!" Alfred had said), but that had yet to happen.

And considering Matthew was currently in the shower singing songs from "The Little Mermaid," he doubted it ever would.

After Matthew had lightly scrubbed his body with a soapy washcloth, he deemed himself clean (and his mind "Gilbert free") and shut off the water. He was still humming a bit as he dried off and started to pull on his clothes. He wrapped his arm back up in a white bandage, but I didn't really bother him that much anymore.

The bathroom mirror was fogged up, so Matthew, towel in hand went over to it and sang, "Call 1-555-Mystico and prepare to be amazed!" as he swiped the towel across the surface of the glass. He chuckled at himself.

Matthew Williams was, admittedly, a bit of a dork.

The pile of wet towels discarded on the floor of Matthew's room reminded him of something he had really tried to forget.

Those dang _maid duties_.

With a groan Matthew dragged himself down the stairs to pick up the laundry bag. He noticed it was surprisingly empty on the main floor. _They all must still be at breakfast_, he decided. He opened the cabinet, grabbed the bag, and returned upstairs to begin.

* * *

Matthew dropped the stuffed laundry bag down the chute.

The stupid cleaning had taken even longer today because of the arrival of Francis and Alfred. Alfred had insisted on taking the Eena room (Matthew had suggested that it was because it was the closest available room to Arthur, but Alfred had denied that fact), so Francis was left with no choice but to take the Chinook room across from Matthew. The Canadian stretched, feeling his back and shoulders pop with the movement and returned downstairs.

Matthew had snooped through just about everything in the lodge (much to his displeasure), but he hadn't really found anything he considered to be highly suspicious (he chose to ignore some of the… _interesting _things he had accidently stumbled upon in Francis's room). So, since he had not really had a chance to get to know many of the guests (it had been a crazy couple of days after all), he decided that he would go and talk to them in person. He wasn't particularly excited about doing that either.

Upon entering the den area, Matthew noticed that there was a woman standing by one of the frosted windows. Her long, wavy, light brown hair fell down her back, stopping just above her waist. She was wearing a green dark green wool sweater, and her dark jeans were stuffed into a pair of fur-lined boots. She adjusted the green beret on her head and continued to peer out of the window with a pair of binoculars. Her name was Elizabeta, Matthew recalled. They had not officially been introduced yet, but Matthew had seen her around the lodge. He approached her.

"Good morning, eh," Matthew said quietly.

She didn't seem to have heard him.

Matthew cleared his throat. "Good morning!" he said a bit louder.

She turned this time, her green eyes lighting up with surprise. "Good morning to you too, um…" she replied, giving him a confused look.

"It's Matthew," he said. "I'm the new maid. I've been meaning to introduce myself but things have been a little hectic around here."

Elizabeta smiled at him. "That's okay, I understand!" she replied. "Thank you for introducing yourself!"

Matthew blushed lightly. "S-so," he said, "may I ask what you're looking at? You seemed pretty into whatever it was."

"I-I'm…bird watching! Yes. I came to this lodge for the bird watching!" Elizabeta stuttered. "I just love birds!"

"Oh," Matthew replied, "have you seen anything yet?" He himself was a bit fond of watching birds.

Elizabeta laughed nervously. "Of course! I've seen Hawks… and uh… Orioles! Lots and lots of Orioles!"

"Okay…" Matthew said skeptically. "Well I hope you find some more interesting birds."

"Thank you! I do too!" She smiled, but Matthew could see was definitely uncomfortable with the conversation.

"I'll leave you to it then," Matthew said, sending a small smile her way.

"Okay! Goodbye!" She turned back to the window and visibly relaxed as he walked away.

That was…

That was downright weird.

Matthew decided to keep a closer eye on Elizabeta from now on.

He continued on a little farther into the den and (not really to his surprise) found Alfred and Arthur sitting at the game table again. He was convinced that was the only thing those two did.

"Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed as the Canadian approached. "How are you feeling, bro? You ran off last night and weren't at breakfast this morning and I was worried!"

"I'm fine, eh," Matthew replied. "I was taking a shower this morning. I didn't mean to worry you."

"That's okay, bro," Alfred said, patting him on the back rather roughly. He really didn't know his own strength. "Breakfast was super weird anyway, wasn't it Artie?" He turned to Brit, who had also seemed to have mastered the skill of "Alfred tuning-out" and was focused on the game before him.

"Uh huh," Arthur mumbled, moving one of his geese. Alfred quickly jumped it with his fox piece. Arthur pouted and started strategically planning out his next move.

"Anyway," Alfred continued, "I walked into the kitchen to ask Francis if he was making a heroic breakfast, and he told me he was making omelets and Canadian bacon. Dude, I was excited! I mean what's more heroic than bacon? So I asked him to load my plate up with it!" He captured another of Arthur's geese, causing the Brit to groan in irritation. "When he handed me my plate, it was covered in friggin ham. _Ham!_ No bacon in sight! It was awful, bro."

Matthew had been right with his earlier assumptions.

His brother really was a huge idiot.

Matthew was about to explain to Alfred that Canadian bacon and bacon he was thinking of were not the same thing when his brother continued on with his story.

"But that's not even the weirdest thing!" Alfred said. "While I was asking Francis what the hell it was he had put on my plate (because it definitely _wasn't_ bacon), that big Russian skier guy walked in mumbling about something. I couldn't really understand what he was saying because I'm pretty sure it wasn't English, but it was still pretty freaky. He had like this dark aura about him too. I don't trust that guy."

Now _that_ Matthew found suspicious.

"Is Ivan here now?" Matthew asked.

"Yep!" Alfred replied, jumping another of Arthur's geese and apparently winning the game. Arthur groaned again and began to reset the board. "I think he's downstairs doing something to his skis or something like that. _Man_, that dude can ski! I saw him out there the other day and he was all like 'zippy zoom!' It was crazy, bro!"

Alfred then began rambling on about a bunch of random things that had no relevance to anything, and Matthew decided to take his leave. The incident with Ivan that Alfred had described to him was _beyond _weird. Matthew decided that it was about time to have another talk with the Russian.

Matthew located the man rather quickly upon entering the basement. He did stand out, after all. He was bent over his skis and was rubbing something across the underside of them. Matthew guessed it was wax or something, but his knowledge of skis was pretty limited so he couldn't be completely sure. The Russian was muttering to himself, but Matthew couldn't really hear what he was saying.

"M-Mr. Braginski!" Matthew called as he approached.

The Russian glanced up from his work, a smile on his face that did not reach his eyes. "Ah, Matvey, what brings you down here?"

Matthew subconsciously shivered at the dark look in Ivan's eyes. "Uh, I heard you very pretty upset about something earlier, and I was wondering if everything was okay?"

Ivan's gaze darkened ever further. "_Nyet_," he replied shortly. "I have come across a few… _problems_, you could say."

"What do you mean by that?" Matthew inquired.

Ivan visibly stiffened and looked as if he was about to respond when a voice from upstairs interrupted them.

"Matthew," Berwald called, "Mr. Jones is on the ph'ne. Needs to talk to ya."

Matthew sighed. "Guess I better go get that, eh?" he muttered.

Ivan chuckled, the dark feeling about him becoming a bit lighter. "We will talk another time, _da?_ You go now."

Matthew nodded and turned to head upstairs. Berwald handed him the phone as he approached the desk.

"Hello?" Matthew said into the receiver. "Dad?"

"Marty! I called to check up on things!" Mr. Jones's loud, cheerful voice replied. "How are things going? Have you found anything interesting yet?"

Matthew's mind immediately went to Gilbert. Sure, the man was strange (although, "strange" might be a bit of an understatement), but Matthew couldn't really see him being responsible for the accidents at the lodge. And Matthew hadn't really had the chance to really investigate anyone else because he was too preoccupied with Gilbert related things. He blushed a bit at this realization.

"Not yet, Dad," he admitted. "I don't really have any idea of where to go from here either."

"No worries, son!" Mr. Jones said. "I have just the thing! Turn on the fax machine there by the computer and I'll send it right over!"

Matthew noticed the clunky, white machine and pushed a button. (_Who the heck uses fax machines anymore?)_ It came to life with an annoying screech. "It's on, eh."

"Perfect! It should be coming in any moment now!"

The machine screeched again and a printed piece of paper shot out. Matthew grabbed it and looked it over. It was some sort of chart. The name of each guest was written across the top, a column of four blank spaces beneath each one. On the left side were a series of questions, each corresponding to a row of blank spaces. Matthew read them out loud.

"'Which side of the bed does the suspect get up from? What is the suspect's hometown? Which planet in the solar system does the suspect identify with? Does the suspect hate paprika?' …Dad, what the heck is this?"

"A survey that will lead us to the real culprit! I've been doing some investigating myself, and this detective website I found said that surveys were a great way to get information out of people! So, I created this one! Great plan, right?"

Matthew was completely dumbfounded. "Uh, sure, Dad. Whatever you say."

"Wonderful! Just fax it back to me when you finish, alright? Oh! One more thing. Why don't you try to give a call to the guests who left after the accidents? They might have some information for you. Just a thought! Well, I've got to run. We'll talk again soon, Milligan!" The line went dead. Matthew stood there, the receiver still clutched in his hand.

_What the hell just happened?_

He placed the phone down and glanced at the survey in his hand. _This thing is completely ridiculous,_ Matthew thought. _Calling the former guests though… that might actually be a pretty good idea._ Matthew turned to the computer and booted it up. _Guest information should be_ _on here somewhere… ah! There it is!_ A listing of guests' names and phone numbers popped up on the screen. He scanned the list and wrote down the information of the one's who had recently checked out.

_Matthias Køhler, Tino Väinämöinen, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo… I guess it's time for a few more phone calls._

The Canadian sighed again.

He really was never going to catch a break, was he?

* * *

**A/N:**

**Holy. Friggin. Crap. This took me forEVER. I struggled with this chapter so much it's not even funny, not to mention I'm moving into my college dorm and getting ready sucks. I know this ended really crappily, but I just needed to get it done and move on with my life. So, sorry it took so long and that this probably sucks. I'll try to update as often as I can, but with school, the "Love Stage!" and "DRAMAtical Murder" animes to watch, and Doctor Who starting back up, I don't know when that will be. But it WILL happen, so stick with me. **

**Just a few replies to comments:**

**Morganator: Thank you so much for reading! Sorry it took me so long to update, but I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**The Imperial Romanian Dragon: Aaaah! Someone else who understands Nancy Drew! XD I'm so happy! Thank you for reading this!**

**vellymymare: Thank you so much! I hope you keep enjoying it! Sorry for making you wait so long!**

**rexlover180: EEEEEEEEP! I literally fangirled so hard when I saw your comment. Your "Lost Diamond" fic is what really made me fall in love with PruCan, and it is definitely one of my favorites! So it means soooooo much that you've been enjoying this. Thank you so, so much!**

**So, I think that's it. I'm signing out.**

**Ciao for now! **


End file.
